


Happy Free Confused (miserable and magical oh yeah)

by NarryEm



Series: One Direction Erotica/Fluff-fest/Wangst as written by EmilyY [37]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Description, M/M, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Queer as Folk AU, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, if you've seen the show you know this is like gay men's heaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is a twenty-five-year-old top of the market advert executive. <br/>Harry is just trying to survive his GCSE's while he tries to figure his sexuality. <br/>Zayn and Liam fuck sometimes. <br/>Louis and Nick are ticking time bombs, ready to start WW3. <br/>In the midst of them, Josh seems like the only one with a firm grip on reality and morals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Free Confused (miserable and magical oh yeah)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "22" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Based upon the show _Queer As Folk_ which I am hooked on. Basically a story about gay men and women who fall in and out of love and it's really, really graphic. But the focus is on how their relationships are just like "straight" people's, which is why I fuckin love it.

The night has just begun and Harry has found himself wandering on the streets of Colchester, alone with a handful of bills. Admittedly, he still is (regretfully) underage and the chances of the bouncers not ripping his fake ID to shreds are thin but with the GCSE's starting in less than a month, he figures that he deserves a night out.

And there's also the fact that he's trying to figure out if he really is gay. Yeah.

The street he has stumbled into is famous for all the fine gay establishments. More than half are dedicated to the gays and lesbians and there is a special tonight at Babylon according to the signs. He doesn't know shite about clubbing so he really is lost. From the corner of his eye, he sees a couple men passing a joint between them, dopey grins on their faces. Right behind them are another couple who seem really about of it, half their clothes hanging off their bodies whilst they grind on one another.

Then he sees him.

It's the gait that sets him above everyone else. He walks down the street like he owns it and the people's attention. His hair is blond, but only at the ends and it's obvious from the colour of his brows that he dyes it. When he is about twenty feet away from Harry, Harry can see that his eyes are blue, cold and aloof as if the scene before his eyes is way below him. He's dressed smartly, a black button-down and pressed chinos that cling to his thighs.

And when their eyes meet, the blond's entire demeanour shifts.

He goes from uninterested and distant to focused and playful. He jerks his head to the side and Harry gulps. He approaches him with a shakey smile fixed upon his face. Closer up, he sees that the blond isn't as young as he had first thought; he has to be at least twenty-three.

"What's your name, Curly?" the blond queries, blowing out of puff of smoke in his face. Harry inhales it deeply, savouring the ashy taste of it. Sometimes, he wishes that people could get more creative with their nicknames for him; he'll make an exception for the blondie since he is so _fit_

"Harry. What about you, Blondie?"

He laughs without humour. "Feisty, ain't ya? Niall. Say, how about we go back to mine? Spend the night, if you will."

Wow, this is better than Harry had planned. First night out on the gay part of the city and he's already getting laid. "Sure."

 

-

 

It's a fucking, ehm, fuck pad. There is no other way to describe it. Niall's place is a loft with a slide-out door in a studio style. Directly in his field of view is an open kitchen and to his right is a mix of living room and gym. And there is a semi-covered area which he can only assume to be the bedroom.

"You have a nice kitchen," Harry says dumbly as Niall goes to take out a bottle of water from the kitchen. "Really nice.

"Yeah? Would you like something to eat?" Niall smirks, gulping down the water and then pouring the leftover on his head. Then he shakes his head, spraying water in every direction.

"No, I'm, ehm, allergic. Last summer I went to a barbeque and got--" Harry honestly doesn't know what he was about to say next because Niall has begun to unbutton his shirt.

"So," Niall says, staring directly into his eyes. "Are you coming or going?"

The shirt comes off. "Or are you coming and then going?"

He unbuckles his belt and begins to tug down his trousers. "Or are you coming and then staying?"

Once he is completely starkers, he holds out his arms as if to say, 'well?'

Harry knows what he wants.

So he closes the distance between them and kisses him on the mouth. Granted, he hasn't kissed a lot (one girl and that's how he figured out he was gay, and his school hasn't got any openly gay blokes) so he goes along with Niall's lead. Niall is rough and demanding and clearly does not take no for an answer. Soon, he is licking his way into Harry's mouth and making Harry's toes tingle with the wicked tricks he can do with his tongue. And the thing he is doing with his hand and the nape of his neck is fucking divine.

Before he knows it, he is naked on a spacious bed and sprawled out underneath Niall, physically and by his piercing gaze. Niall is staring at him with so much intent that he feels like he is blushing all over his body (and probably is, fuck).

"Do you top or bottom?" Niall asks conversationally. 

Harry flushes, and has no idea what that means. "Top. . . and bottom."

Niall quirks an eyebrow. "You're a versatile then."

"Yeah. And ambidextrous. Which was confusing at first because I didn't know which hand to throw with."

The older man cracks a smile. "So. What do you like to do?"

"Er, read, watch the telly, play _Grand Theft Auto_ , cook sometimes . . ."

"I meant," Niall says, grinding his hips down and taking Harry's earlobe between his teeth. "In bed."

"Anything," Harry replies, hoping that his inexperience isn't painfully obvious.

"Do you like rimming?" Niall asks, amusement glinting in his blue blue eyes.

"Yeah. Sure."

"Great," Niall cheers, straightening his spine. "Get on with it then."

Harry frowns. Fuck. "Um, what exactly do you mean?"

"Fuckin' knew it. Little schoolboy wanderin' the streets. You're lucky I picked you up, not some creepy old perverts."

"I'm nineteen!" Harry lies, but then his voice breaks a tiny bit.

"Mm-hmm." 

"Eighteen?" Niall's brows climb higher. 

"Seventeen." 

"What is this, a rocket launch?" Niall snorts.

"Fine, sixteen. There."

"Un-fucking-believable," Niall rolls over. "You're still underage."

Harry is quick to roll over so that he is now straddling Niall. "And very willing. Come on, don't be such a prude."

Niall's eyes blaze. In less than a second, Harry finds himself underneath his lithe body.

He can feel the wet pressure of Niall's tongue trailing down his spine and than to his disbelief, he licks down the crevice between his bum cheeks. Then, oh, he can feel the tip of his tongue along the ring of his opening and it feels really good. He lets out an embarrassingly loud moan and bucks his hips back towards the delicious pressure. There's some stretch and when Niall's tongue slides inside, he can't hold it back anymore. He makes that inhuman sound again and Niall only adds to it, pushing his tongue in as far as it can go.

And when a finger slides in with the tongue, Harry is a goner. He's had orgasms before, yeah, but having a tongue and a finger wiggling inside him can't compare to wanking. Especially when the finger brushes against a spot inside him that sets his senses on fire.

He has barely come down from his high when Niall flips him over and starts to kiss him. It's slow to the point of being lazy, a total contrast to how they were kissing earlier. Harry has half a mind working to kiss him back properly, not that Niall seems to mind. He registers the firm grip on his thighs and bends them up. A part of Harry is scared shitless. He's not stupid and he's read stuff online. First time is supposed to hurt for both guys and girls, yeah? Niall reaches over to take out something and Harry hears the rustle of foil packet. He blushes when he realises that Niall had just got the condom on. Then, the blond hooks Harry's legs over his shoulder--and Harry never knew he was that flexible--and then slides in slowly.

"Fuck," Harry pants out. "Does it always hurt?"

"No," Niall replies, stroking his face gently. "You get used to it."

Then he grinds his hips in a slow circle, making Harry groan from the weird feeling of being so full. It still hurts, but there is a shock of pleasure every now and then.

When he feels like he has relaxed enough, he nods for Niall to continue. With a grin, Niall starts to thrust in and out of him in a steady rhythm. It's not so slow that Harry wants to rip the blond locks off his head but at the same time, not too fast that Harry can't handle it. It's perfect, that's what it is.

"Mm, such a horny little teenager," Niall croons, wrapping his hands around Harry's prick. "Wanna come for me like a good boy?"

Harry lets out a strangled moan and comes so hard. Niall chuckles breathlessly, rocking in and out a couple more times before he lets go as well. He pulls out slowly and tosses the condom in the general direction of the rubbish bin. The maid can clean it up tomorrow.

The post-coital bliss is quickly translated into drowsiness and the last thing Harry feels is Niall's hot breaths tickling the shell of his ear.

 

-

 

The shrill sounds of the alarm is the first thing Harry hears when he is jerked out of his peaceful sleep. Beside him, he feels the bed bounce up as a weight leaves it.

"Fuckin' cunts," Niall mutters, pulling on the first clean pair of boxers that he sees. "Ya okay with gettin' home by yourself?"

Harry nods, his mind still boggled with sleep. "Yeah. Gon' be late but don't care."

Niall sighs out of relief. "Saves me the trouble of driving you meself then. Hate work days. They won't let their best account exec sleep in, those ungrateful prats."

"Oh," Harry tries to sympathise. "Well, I guess I should get going."

"Yup," Niall replies, fumbling with the ridiculously small buttons on the shirt. "Feel free to show yourself out."

"Will I see you again?" Harry queries, hoping that he doesn't sound too, well, hopeful.

"In your dreams, little schoolboy," Niall teases, tone light. But his eyes are back to being aloof like the night before.

"But--" Harry starts but Niall stops him by physically putting a finger on his lips.

"Lesson number one of the world of grown-ups: a no is a definite no. You respect other people's decisions and get on with your own life, capisce?"

"Alright," Harry says, dejectedly. "So is there a bus stop nearby?"

"A block away. Suppose I can drive you there, at least."

"Brill."

 

-

 

"Someone got laid," Louis crows.

Niall gives him the finger that waves the server over, who happens to be another one of his friends, Josh. Josh and his mother run the diner and the diner is the most popular one on the so-called gay central of Colchester.

"Ooh, was he good? Or was it more than one?" Josh asks, clearly enjoying this little interrogation.

"Just some twink, 'kay? Now lay off me back, I'm tryin' t' eat my lunch in peace."

"Peace?" a new voice scoffs and Niall swears that he can see hairs bristling on Louis' arms. "Oh please, Nialler. Everyone knows that you live for trouble and the thrill of the hunt of finding a new arse to fuck every night. The night you found peace is the night all of us swear ourselves to a life of monkhood."

"Grimshaw," Louis says curtly, eyes turning cold.

"Tomlinson," Nick returns just as coldly. "You are such an immature twat. Why can't you ever let go of the fact that I--"

"Okay," Niall holds up his hands. "I will not be able to bask in my after-sex glow if you two cannot stop snarling at each other for one mo. Jesus christ, it happened three years ago, Lou. Aren't you the one who always preaches about living in the moment 'cause we don't know what the future might bring? For someone as impulsive and flighty as you, you sure know how to hold a grudge."

Louis snaps, "You don't know the full story, Horan. Grimmy and I have other things that we hate each other for. Not just that."

"Why can't they have insanely hot hate sex and get over it?" Josh whispers into Niall's ear and Niall nearly spews out the coffee he just sipped.

"Josh!" he complains. "You can't say shite like that when I'm drinking hot coffee. Can't kill 'em even though they drive me crazy with their unfounded hatred!"

Josh giggles. "Well, if it's of any consolation, your little outburst caught the eye of some young 'un. He's real pretty, that one."

Josh jerks his chin towards the newcomer and Niall cranes his neck.

Ah hell.

It's the kid from last night, Harry, and his entire face lights up when he spots Niall. He walks over and Niall can't help but notice how long his legs are. He hadn't noticed last night in the dark but the kids is proper tall and skinny, the epitome of a teenage dolt who barely knows how to walk without tripping over his own feet. 

Like magic, a few feet from Niall's table, Harry trips over a table leg and nearly plants his face in some customer's lunch. From the looks of her sly face, she wouldn't have minded having Harry in such close proximity of her.

"Hi," Harry says, smiling brightly.

"Hi," Niall returns, purposefully sounding bored. And he is bored, but not as much as he sounds, he supposes.

"You, ehm, you kinda got me off at the bus stop this morning and yeah. That didn't sound as lame in my head."

Josh looks up from the patron he is supposed to be serving and gives Niall A Look, which the blind promptly ignores in favour of staring Harry down. 

"Kid," he starts, patting his shoulder. "I don't do seconds, or even one and a half. One fuck, no regrets and no apologies. You were a good shag and now it's time for us to part ways.

"But--"

"No buts. Butts are for fucking and your turn has gone."

Harry;, thankfully, turns and leaves.

"Sheesh," Nick muses, "that was harsh even for you, Horan."

Niall shrugs. "Can't have 'im thinking that there's something going on between us, can I?"

Louis tsks. "One day, young Nialler, you'll learn that there is more to life than fucking a different bloke every night."

"And the hell shall freeze before that happens."

 

-

 

"Fuck no." Louis whines. "It's bad enough that the kid is stalking us during the day but the clubs too?"

Zayn looks where Louis is glaring at. "Dunno why you're complaining mate. He's pretty fit."

Liam joins in. "He's probably like fifteen. A submissive, I'll bet."

Zayn's whiskey-hued eyes glint in the dim lights. "Fancy a threesome? Never had a worthy lad to join us."

"Mmm," Liam hums. "Much rather fuck you against a wall."

"Oh yeah me too."

Niall comes back with the shots and they all cheer. Josh fowns his shot, this one being his second for the night whilst the others on their fifth or tenth. 

"Come on," Niall urges. "The night is still young, yeah?" 

They stumble out of the club and Harry frowns as he approaches Josh. 

"Where'd they go?" He asks, pouting adorably. 

"Babylon," Josh answers. "Their usual haunt. The back room is also designated for fucking so yeah."

"Babylon?" Harry queries. 

"Jesus," Josh exclaims. "You really are a newbie schoolboy aren't ya. It's a gay club around the block. Niall and the rest of like it best in all of Colchester."

"Alright."

Josh sighs. "Listen kid. Niall, he's nothing but heartbreak for you. I know that he is really fit and all that but he jas never dated in the twenty years I have known him. He doesn't to boyfriends and he certainly does not love anyone but himself. So do yourself a favour and go the other way. Plenty of other men loving men out here yeah?"

"They're not _him_ though. And I want him."

It doesn't take long for Harry to find the infamous Babylon. He shows the bouncer his fake ID and to his surprise, he lets him in.

The inside of the club is lit up with carious neon-tinted lights and the dress code seams to be non-existential. Half the blokes are shirtless while the other half are clad in tight boxers. There are elevated boxing rings in which some gorgeous guys are dancing provocatively, wearing thongs or skin-coloured leggings. Harry gulps, feeling his heartbeat speed up to match the hip-hop song that is blaring over the speakers.

Niall is easy to spot, dancing ( _more like dry humping,_ Harry thinks) with the crowd at the middle of the dance floor. He leans over to a guy with short, spiked hair and whispers something in his ear. The two begin to dance together in an incredibly sensuous way, making Harry's trousers feel tight. Then, to Harry's surprise, Niall leans over to some other bloke and also gets the ginger to dance with them. The three of them are easily the centre of attention, as the take turns snogging the daylights out of each other.

Something boils inside of Harry. He wants to prove to Niall that he is more than just a pretty face. He shucks off his obnoxious band t-shirt and strides towards the trio. All the men in his way look his way with desire burning in his eyes but he ignores him. There are rough arse-grabs along the way but he tries his best not to react to them; as if he is so used to being wanted and groped by hot older men.

When he reaches his destination, he begins to sway his body to the music, now a slower number with thumping bass and raspy lyrics floating over the bass. He knows that he's got a great body and surely enough, the redhead looks his away. He doesn't say or do anything other than tug on his bottom lip with his teeth, keeping the rest of his face smooth and cool. The redhead leaves Niall much to his chagrin and joins Harry instead. Keeping the smirk off his face, Harry lets the ginger-haired chap run his hands all over his body,lifting an arm and to rest his hand behind the guy's head. Harry can feel the other man's groin pressed close to his arse, grinding with force as the music and atmosphere around them becomes even more laced with sex.

And it only takes ten seconds for the other bloke to leave Niall in favour of joining Harry's little entourage. They dance together as if they were fucking on the dance floor, slow and fired up to the beat of whatever is playing. Harry is about to snog the ginger when a hand appears out of nowhere to push back the ginger.

"You devious little cunt," Niall growls, pulling him in, back to his chest. "Think that little stunt will make you any more desirable?"

Harry laughs. "Worked, didn't it?"

"Little twinkie, out to face the big bad wolves," Niall whispers into his ear. "What would dear mummy say, hmm."

"She wouldn't say a word 'cause she doesn't know I'm gay."

"Well, then. I won't feel too bad about _this_."

Without any warning, Niall lifts Harry up and spins him around. Then, with Harry still hoisted up, he kisses him hard on the mouth. They kiss hungrily, like they had been deprived of food for a long time and the only sustenance they have got are each other. There's catcalls and cheers but Harry ignores those. If he wants to live this kind of lifestyle, he's got to get used to this.

 

-

 

"How dare you not tell me??!!" Cara screams into Harry's ear.

"Because," Harry mumbles around his bacon sarnie. "I knew you would scream my ears off if I told you."

"You, ohmyfuckinggod, you did it! You lost your virginity to this fit older bloke! Harry Edward Styles, I never would have expected it from you."

Harry groans. He loves Cara, he really does. They have been best mates ever since that day Harry forgot his lunch and Cara offered to share hers. (Also on that day, Cara talked him into exploring the forest behind their primary school and ended up getting lost for two hours.) But sometimes, she has a tendency to overreact.

"It's just sex, Cara," he says with as much nonchalance as he can muster. "Not like I sold my soul to the devil."

Cara inhales sharply, a signal that she is about to launch a long and boring speech. The bell rings just then. _Saved by the bell_ , Harry thinks. 

"Look, I got visual arts and you know how the teacher is about the tardy kids, yeah? Catch you later."

"You better tell me how big he was!" Cara whisper-yells as they part ways.

Yeah, he'll never quite get used to having a friend like her.

-

 

"How was work?" Harry asks, stretching out his arms.

"Boring. Had to convince some fat-arse cunt that his idea was rubbish and that mine was better. The usual. How was school?"

Harry shrugs. There was some homophobic prick who had slammed him up against a locker but that's nothing out of the normal for him. "Alright. Art class was aces. We just started watercolours."

"Hmm," Niall hums, loosening his necktie. "Sounds artsy. You know that you are such a gay stereotype?"

He dodges as Harry throws a pillow at him. "How so?"

"Your best friend is a bird, you've immaculately coiffed hair, and you draw. Need I say more?"

Harry opens his mouth to say something but then he remembers that his favourite colour happens to be pink. He settles for a glower instead. 

"Anyone tell you that you've got the cutest, kitten like glare ever? You look proper pouty like that, a kitty who got his tail stepped on."

 _Note to self: practice angry face in front of a mirror_. He had thought that Cara was making fun of him but apparently not.

"And you're not?" Harry counters. "From what I've gathered, you are quite promiscuous."

Nial laughs, loud and carefree. "Darlin', I luve life for what it's worth. If it's got a nice dick and a pretty face, I shag it."

Harry tries to nor look offended. That was almost like a back-handed compliment. 

So instead, he shrugs out of his jumper. Underneath he isn't wearing anything. And the skinny jeans he has on doesn't leave much to the imagination. 

"I see, " he says, stretching out his body over the sofa. "Guess that's one way to look at life.'

"Mmhmm," Niall agrees, slowly approaching Harry. "Gotta live before we grow older. Shake off the weight of the world from our shoulders, yeah? Gor nothing to prove or to lose."

Niall is now directly in front of him, eyes raking up and down Harry half naked form. 

Suddenly, Niall straddles him and attaches their mouths together passionately. It's lustful and the way Niall is grinding his hips leaves no room for wrong interpretation. 

Harry loses his jeans pretty quick and the same fate comes to his boxers. Niall is commando under his trousers and that doesn't surprise Harry at all.

.

He doesn't hesitate to wrap his hands around Niall's prick, giving it a tentative stroke. Taking the guttural moan as a hint, he speeds up the movement of his hand, his free hand pressing into his own erection. Niall's head is thrown back, his eyes slipped shut and his mouth agape. Harry really wants to kiss him but he knows that it will mess up the nice rhythm they have going on right now.

"Mmm you should try blowing me," Niall rasps out and Harry nearly chokes on his tongue. "Don't worry, I'll try my best not to choke you. You go on top and hold my hips down, yeah?"

Harry nods, thoughts still clouded with worry.

Nonetheless, he lets Niall roll them over so that now he is sat on top. He goes to scurry down but Niall stops him. 

"Don't go straight for me cock. Foreplay makes everythin' better. Try kissin' down me neck and chest, suck on a few hickeys. Build up the anticipation, yeah?"

Harry nods again and kisses Niall hard and quick. Then he veers off to suck on his pale neck lightly, nipping a bit too. He keeps kissing a path southwards until he is level with the happy trail. He smirks before taking a few hairs between his teeth and pulling gently, earning a breathless gasp.

"Fast learner, aren't ya?" Niall pants out, tangling his fingers into Harry's curls. "Now on with it."

When he takes Niall into his mouth, he can taste a bit of bitter liquid on the tip. He fights the urge to spit it out and sucks him down to the base, letting the tip hit the back of his throat. He has never had a good gag reflex and it's a good thing, he supposes. He bobs his head up, suckling extra hard on just the tip. (He's seen porno, after all.) Niall bucks his hips up and curses, mumbling something about Harry's mouth being _'fuckin' hot as owt'_.

Niall comes with a jumble of swear words that would make a sailor blush and his fingers tighten to the threshold of pain in Harry's hair. Strangely he doesn't mind it too much. It feels nice in a weird, floaty way.

"Fuck you're too good," Niall muses, collapsing on top of Harry. Lazily, his hands traipse towards Harry's neglected hard-on and starts to tug on it harshly. Harry can only rock into it and bury his face into Niall's neck, trying to stifle the embarrassing noises that come tumbling out of his mouth. He doesn't last long, the blow job having kept him pretty hard. He bites into Niall's neck as he comes, instantly feeling guilty.

"Sorry," he mutters, voice shot from the work and mind foggy with the orgasm.

"What for? I like it rough anyways," Niall winks.

Harry would blush if there still was enough blood left on his face. He settles for burrowing his face into Niall's chest as he drifts off to sleep.

 

-

"You are unbelievable, you know that?" Liam chides him over the phone.

Niall rolls his eyes. Okay, so maybe sleeping with that Harry kid more than once was a bad idea but really, he can't say no to that perfect tight little arse. Or the dimples. Dimples have always been his weakness. Sometimes, he sees more than just childish affection and teenage lust behind those green eyes but whatever. He was Harry's first fuck and Harry will be clingy for a while, no doubt. After a while, however, he'll see that Niall has no interest in a loving relationship and move on to bloke more his age. Problem solved.

Except, of course, the fact that it has been three months and he still is fucking the curly haired twink on a regular basis.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm a heartless, dick-loving bastard who has no concept of love. We've been over this a thousand times, Li."

"And poor kid. Reckon that he still hopes that there's a hope that you'll give in and be his boyfriend. What even possessed you to fuck a kid in the first place?"

"Well," Niall starts, flicking away the offending image from the advert he is working on. Thank god for interactive touch-screens. It's somewhat like the hologram-like gadget that Tony Stark has, minus the three-dimensional aspect. "I was on my way to getting pissed off my lovely bubble butt and then I saw him and his dimples. The rest, as they say, _est l'histoire_."

He can practically hear his mate roll his eyes on the other side of the line. "There's no changing you, is there?" Niall stars to answer but Liam cuts him off. "Whatever. Zayn wants to do dinner so I gotta start getting ready. He wants to take me out, finally. Think that he wants us to be more than just fuck buddies?"

"I hope so. With all the pining that's been goin' on ever since that gorgeous fucker moved here, I'll wager I can publish a book with it. For someone with your physique, you sure are a girl. I been wondering for a while, do you top or does he?"

Niall cackles when Liam sputters. "That's between Zayn and I, rude prat. Bye, gotta go gel up my hair."

"Bye, you little shit."

Just as Niall is about to go back to his current project, the phone goes off.

"Yes?" he asks, a bit annoyed.

"Mr Horan," his assistant, Emma, says. "We've just received word that Mr Cowell would like to talk to you."

Niall beams. Simon Cowell is the CEO of the company and controls who gets promoted and who gets demoted. With all the sales that Niall has been raking, surely this has to be about a well-deserved upgrade in his position.

"Please tell him that I'll be there shortly."

In three minutes' time, Niall is stood outside Cowell's office. When he walks in, he is greeted with a curt nod.

"Mr Horan. How good to see you again. All is well, I hope."

"Of course, sir," Niall replies, keeping a polite yet calculated smile on his face. "With your care, everything is goin' alright."

"Good, good. So recently, our current head executive has retired early, due to health complications. And it's been brought to my attention that I will need to replace him quickly."

"I understand, sir."

"So I've a little proposition for you: you have the top sales in the entire company, some months, even more than I. And the only problem is, people don't like you much, Niall. I've no idea why but they all seem to oppose the idea of having you as the boss of everyone."

"That is unfounded," Niall frowns. Okay, so maybe he likes to flaunt his success to his colleagues but that's nothing too bad. People do that everywhere and he had believed that it would motivate them to get their arses into gear.

"They also think that you are a--their phrase, not mine--fuck-happy slag who'll do anything with two legs and a pulse. And I've heard of your reputation, Niall."

His frown only deepens. "What I do outside of work should not have any impact on my professional life. If this is your way of saying that I need to clean my shite up, you ain't doin' a good job. God made me what I am, so I'm just livin' me life as a gay man who is very comfortable with his sexuality."

Cowell raises a brow. "Therein lies our problem. I refuse to have someone who is temperamental in a vital position. If you continue to behave the way you do now, you will have to learn to respect what others think of you."

Niall stands up. "I see. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

The CEO stands up as well. "Please know that I do like you, Niall. It's just that I need to keep other people in this company content as well. Sometimes, I'm forced to make decisions that may not seem fair."

"I understand. Good night, Mr Cowell."

"Good night, Mr Horan."

 

-

 

"Fuckin' cunt," Niall curses, taking a big swig of the dark ale. "'I need to keep other people content as well'. Well fuck the others. I make more sales than all of them together."

Louis pats his shoulder sympathetically. Tonight he's dressed in a hot pink mesh shirt that doesn't cover anything paired with leather jeans that look painted on. Niall downs another shot in the memory of Louis' balls because surely, your dick can't breathe in those monstrosities.

"Honey, you need to forget about work. It's a fucking Friday night and there's lots of delicious _derrieres_ to fuck for you. Unless it turns out to be a transplant, god, you can definitely feel them when you grope. It's how fake boobs feel, I'll bet."

"Lou," Niall slurs, setting down the beer he's been sipping on. "Have I ever told you that you are total headers?"

"Yes, and I still don't know exactly what you mean, you Irish prick. Why can't you use normal slangs so we know when to feel offended."

"Tha' takes all th' fun out, though," Niall grins lazily.

It's leather and laces night at Babylon and he's quite surprised to see a fair amount of lacy nothings in the club. He himself has opted for a leather jacket and black jeans. There is a brown-haired chap clad in a lace t-shirt and leather shorts that he has been eyeing up for a while. The fittie looks like he is a total bottom despite his obvious endowments. Niall will gladly suck his cock in the backroom with the shorts still on.

Just then, because the universe is conspiring against Niall, Harry walks in. He seems to have gone with the dress code as well. And Niall will be damned if he hasn't seen a finer sight.

Harry is dressed in a black lace blouse that has to have come from a bird. And the trousers, fucking hell, the trousers are of leather made but striped with crochet so that he can see glimpses of Harry's pale thighs and legs. One of the lace-stripe cuts dangerously high up, nearly revealing the round of his bum as he turns around. He looks like pure sex sent from heaven.

And Niall wants him.

"Uh-oh," Nick jokes. "Nialler's gears are revving up."

Louis rolls his eyes. (And seriously, there should be a law against the Tommo and Grimmy being within a block's radius from one another. Those two are the only individuals with minds diabolical and insane enough to burn down the entire England if given the chance. Part of Niall can't help but wonder why those two haven't had crazy hot hate sex yet.) "You are a rude prat. Go get 'im, tiger." He gives Niall's arse a slap.

"Says you," Niall shoots back, throwing back another shot of god-knows-what. 

He plays his usual game, dancing along to the heavy bass of whatever song is playing and not paying attention to anyone in particular. Alcohol- and drugs-clouded eyes roam up and down his body but the only response that they get is an arrogant smirk that Niall has mastered ever since he was a young lad. Soon enough, there are throngs of chaps lining up to have a go at him, make a pass, do any to be deemed worthy of the one and only Niall Horan.

But his focus is on one thing and one thing only.

Harry seems to have caught on to his game, smart lad. He returns the smirk and loses himself to the beat of the song, head thrown back with his long arms hanging limply by his side. The pale length of his neck glistens with sweat in the strobe light. And with the suspended motion, Niall thinks of how pretty Harry looks. Time is frozen between them as they exchange wordless conversations. If Harry were like any of his conquests, he would make Harry come and get it. But as it is, Harry seems to have grown on him. He's now something more, something that Niall isn't too sure about.

He shakes those feelings away and shuffles his feet ever so closer to Harry. Harry gets the hint and strides towards him, eyes glazed over and hair damp with sweat.

"'Lo there, stranger," Harry says cheekily.

"Same. Let's get outta here, shall we?" Niall offers, lifting a hand, palm up.

Harry takes it and Niall pulls him in sans warning. In less than a second, he has Harry dipped impossibly close to the ground. Harry swears that he could have felt the ends of his hair touch the grimy floor. Then Niall hauls him back up, their lips meeting in a short kiss. His head spins from the sudden movement and how sinful Niall's lips felt against his.

They hail a cab and the entire ride is spent with them making out in the backseat like a couple of horny teenagers. (One of them is, and Niall considers himself to be a perpetual teen at heart.) Niall almost drops to his knees on the lift to give Harry a quick blow job but he decides against it. Besides, he is pretty certain that the building as security cameras installed in the most inopportune places.

But as soon as they are in the privacy of his studio loft, he tugs at the lacy thing on Harry's torso. "Careful,' Harry warns, loosening a few buttons on the top. "It's my friend's."

"Okay," Niall replies, carefully removing the top from Harry's body. He then works on getting Harry out of the damnned tight leggings. How he put those on in the place will forever be mystery. 

"That's not fair," Harry muses, stood completely in the nude in front of Niall. "You've clothes on."

Niall grins. "I'm in control, babes. You are my pretty little play thing, yeah? Gonna fuck you so good you'll be screamin' my name and beggin' for mercy."

Harry blushes. (Niall may or may not adore that cute blush that still graces Harry's cheeks whenever he is being vulgar.) "I'll prove you wrong."

"Darlin'," Niall deadpans. "I'm seldom wrong."

 

And Niall is proven right once again in an hour, when he has finished rimming Harry for the second time tonight. Harry is a writhing, blubbering mess underneath him, his hips jerking back greedily even though his cock is red and oversensitive from two consecutive orgasms.

"God, Niall, your _mouth_ ," Harry pants, enlarging the wet patch on the pillow where his mouth is.

"Mmmhmm," Niall hums, his lips still on Harry's arse, close to his hole. Harry makes a keening noise and his dick twitches with interest. Niall is amused by how responsive Harry is. Granted, Niall used to get hard just thinking about butts and whatnot but Harry is so exquisitely sensitive to everything that he does. "Wanna feel it around your pretty cock? Want me to suck you off then make you suck me off? Lube me up real good before I give it to ya hard."

Harry whimpers, dick half hard already.

"Greedy lad, aren't ya? So needy."

"Yes. Want your cock in me. Please just fuck me," Harry babbles, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

"Not done with playin' though," Niall pouts, flipping Harry to his back and skimming his lips up the little dips and ridges of Harry's barely-there abs. "Wan' ya to be an absolute mess b'fore I fuck ya."

"'M now, ruined," Harry murmurs, his brain refusing to work properly for him to speak coherently. There's a fuzzy feeling at the back of his head and he feels really warm all over. "So fuck me?"

"Yeah, gimme a mo," Niall says, reaching behind him for the condom he'd set out earlier. He feels the crinkly packet and snatches it up. He rips it open with his teeth and rolls it onto himself with a practiced ease.

"Look s' good, baby," Niall grits out, entering Harry slowly. Harry's legs tighten around his middle and he gives a sharp thrust, making Harry groan wantonly. "So tight fo' me."

Harry moans in response, hips rocking back erratically. "Jus' fuckin' fuck me already."

Niall laughs as he kisses Harry tenderly, the action belying the burning desire coursing through his veins. He does what Harry wants him to, albeit slower and with more force. This is why he likes the fact that he is only into blokes. With girls, you'd have to worry about being to rough or work for hours to get them off. With guys, it's easier, and they have more nerve endings to stimulate. And Harry, bless him, he is so beatifully sensitive everywhere that Niall has to hold himself back after an hour or two as not to hurt him too badly. There's the good hurt and bad hurt, he's gone through enough to know that much.

So when Harry comes again, body trembling and a few squirts coming out of his slit, Niall just lets go as well. He would have liked to get off at least once more but he kind of cares about Harry now. He'll make do with a morning blow job or two.

 

-

 

More months pass by and Niall really starts to wonder what the fuck he is doing with Harry. He's a great lad, of course, but what's the meaning of all this? Ever since he took Harry's virginity, he has been pulling less guys, preferring to fuck Harry's brains out instead. And they sort of have this down pat. Some nights, they like to play against one another. They would flirt with other blokes and see who can wheel the sexier guy. If they're lucky, they have at least a threesome that will last forever in the third-wheel's memory. Usually they come home high off of whatever drugs they were offered and also high off of each other.

This is starting to feel suspiciously like a relationship.

And Niall doesn't do relationships because that implies that there will be _feelings_ involved.

And today had to be the day of Harry's formal, of course.

Naturally, Harry has been pestering him to come.

"C'mon," Harry whines, doing his best impersonation of a puppy that's been kicked. "It won't be that terrible. The drinks are gonna be spiked and you get to show off your Armani to us fashionably ignorant kids."

Niall sighs. "I already bought you a Burberry suit as a graduation present. Don't think I need to do another for you."

Harry pouts, his eyes growing rounder and a little bit moist. "Please?"

"No is a no, Haz."

"Fine. I'll go with Cara instead. She'll be heartbroke to have to tell her boyfriend that she is on bestie duty for the night."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell her I said hi, will ya?"

"'Course."

 

-

 

"You are the most self-serving near psychopathic bastard I have ever met," Josh says to him without preamble.

"I second that," Louis says, picking a limp lettuce off his sandwich.

"Me three," Nick says, sliding into the seat right beside Louis. Niall frowns at that. Since when do those two lunatics ever agree on something?

"Liam and I would like to say the same," Zayn smirks, feeding Liam a bite from his own creme brule.

"Hold up, hold up," Niall physically raises his hands to halt the impending onset of unjustified judgement. "Is it Hate Niall Day today or summat? Did I miss the note?"

"Mate," Liam says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You've been fucking with Harry's feelings for a long time. And when he asks you to do one small thing for all he's sacrificed for you, you shut him down."

"I bought him a fuckin' Burberry suit!" Niall exclaims, fiddling with a snow white Prada wool scarf.

"Money can't buy happiness, much less nurse a half-broken heart," Josh explains, exasperated. "Will it kill you to say what he wants to hear for just once?"

Niall smirks. "Guys, I lo--" he makes a choking sound and falls off his stool. "Yeah it would."

"Dick," someone mutters, too low for Niall to pinpoint who that was.

"Whatever. If we're done with the inquisition, I'd like to go back to my flat and drink meself to oblivion, free of judgmental friends."

 

-

 

The clock ticks closer to eight and Niall sighs. He's gone through an entire bottle of authentic Domaine de la Romanee-Conti and that nagging feeling of guilt hasn't been washed away. He looks at the scarf perched on the edge of the sofa.

With a sigh, he picks it up and goes to his bed.

 

-

 

"I'm fine, I swear," Harry slurs, gulping down the punch. The punch itself is godawful, some mix of pomegranate and mango, but the sting of vodka helps rid of it.

Cara gives him A Look. "You've been puppy-guarding the drinks table for half the night. It's obvious that you aren't. There are some girls who won't mind dancing with you, you know. And me! I've danced for like three songs because Derek hates dancing. Please, for me?"

Harry glares at her. "I'm shit at dancing. Don't you remember when I had to take dancing lessons for Mum and Robin's wedding? I stepped on your toes at least a dozen times."

"Yeah but--holy hell. Maybe the punch is stronger than I thought."

"What now?"

Harry turns around to where Cara is gawping at. Half the people have too, as the doors have just opened.

And the person stood there is none other than Niall Horan.

He looks so different from the teenagers, the air of arrogance and confidence shrouding him in the dim light. A spotlight is fixed upon him as he strides through the door and straight to Harry.

"You look gorgeous," he offers to Cara, who is wearing a navy bodycon dress with a plunging neckline that is shaded by lace. He kisses her temple. "Mind if I steal your date?"

"Not at all," Cara says, eyes gleaming with cheeriness.

Harry gulps as Niall takes his hand and leads him out to the middle of the dance floor. The spotlight is still shining upon them and Harry wishes that it wasn't. This is a moment shared between the two of them, not something for the others to gawk at just because it's two blokes dancing together.

"I thought you didn't do sentimentality," Harry retorts as Niall slings the snowy white scarf around his neck.

"Well, I'm allowed to change my mind," Niall huffs. "And I wanted to see you in this suit."

"Niall Horan, at a school dance. The entire Colchester must be in upheaval."

The song changes into a slower number (" _Save The Last Dance for Me" how apt_ , Harry muses) and Niall twirls him around and around. He is a surprisingly good dance, but that is to be expected, isn't it? What isn't Niall good at.

"They'll deal with it. And you should know that this is one of the only favours I'll do for ya."

"Yeah, I'll bear that in mind."

Niall twirls him again, and they go across the dance floor and back. Harry is starting to get dizzy, from the all the spinning going on and also from exhilaration. Niall is _here_ with _him_. He could very well be fucking someone random in the backroom of Babylon but instead he chose to come to the dance for Harry. That has got to count as a start of something great.

The song comes to his peak and Niall dips him, their foreheads almost brushing together and when they get up, Niall picks him up to spin around. One arm is wrapped around Harry's waist whilst the other is still on his shoulder. Harry has seen Niall's biceps and abs but, damn, he's never known that Niall is this strong. When the song ends, Niall puts him back down, and as he does so he kisses him passionately. There's aggression, lust, and a spark of possessiveness there. And Harry is loving it.

"We're leaving," Niall informs him when they break the kiss.

"Okay," Harry acquiesces. He's got what he's wanted.

Once they get out of the hotel, they can't seem to keep their hands off of each other. Their lips keeps attaching themselves to one another whilst their fingers end up in the other's hair. Harry has never felt loved even though Niall will never say those three words to him.

"Did you see their faces?" Harry asks as Niall twirls him again.

Niall slams him against his Range Rover and kisses him hungrily, one hand slipping down the back of his trousers. "Yeah, you gave them a prom they'll never forget."

"Hmmm, don't think we should fuck in the public," Harry comments cheekily, earning himself a pinch on his arse.

"That's what the car is for."

"As tempting as that offer is, my mum is waiting for me back home. I'll text ya later, 'kay?"

"Yeah," Niall says, pecking him on the lips.

Harry turns to go towards the front entrance of the hotel again. Nial climbs into his car and watches Harry in the side-view mirror, a fond smile on his face.

That's when he sees him.

A bloke with a baseball bat appears out of nowhere and his target is clearly Harry. Niall jumps out of the car, crying out, "HARRY!" He sprints after the attacker, trying to stop him.

Harry turns around but it's too late. The bastard swings the bat and it connects with the back of Harry's head. There's blood everywhere and Harry falls to the ground limply. Niall is screaming when he tackles down the attacker and knocks the bat out of his hands. He punches him square in the jaw and spits on him.

"Get the fuck out of here," he growls, rolling off the filth and hovering over Harry. The guy nods and runs off, never looking back.

Niall strokes Harry's wavy curls as he calls the A&E. There's so much blood, pooling beneath them. The white scarf is now stained with blood, scarlet against snow. He swallows back the lump in his throat and tells the operator exactly what's happened.

 

-

 

"He's doing better," a woman says.

Niall turns towards the voice. It's a nurse and she smiles at him fondly.

"That's brill," he says curtly.

"I've seen you here every night. Why don't you ever go in? He's not in critical condition anymore so non-family members are allowed in there."

"He doesn't have to know."

"Maybe he does. I hear him sometimes at night. He's always murmuring a name, starting with ' _N_. His motor skills are improving, but there's complications, of course. The tremours are random now, not constant. It frustrates him a lot."

Niall feels a pang in his heart. "Yeah, he draws. Wanted to get into an arts school."

 

-

 

"Missed you," Harry mumbles into the hollow of his neck.

Harry has just been discharged from the hospital with a warning that if he experiences any weird symptoms, he is to return immediately.

"Yeah, sure. How's your head?"

"Alright. Wish I could remember though."

Niall arches a brow. "Why?"

"Head trauma induced amnesia isn't so uncommon, Nialler. People have told me stuff. Cara says that we danced in front of everyone. And that we were amazing. Apparently, you're a good dance, who would have known?"

Niall shrugs, reaching for his mug of coffee.

"Then we went to your car, we kissed a lot. You left and that's when some homophobic jerk bashed me."

"Not quite," Niall interjects. "I had told you that I didn't wanna go but my friends sort of guilt tripped me. And I wanted t' see you in the suit I'd bought you. I showed up about halfway through the dance, with a white scarf. I told you that your friend Cara looked gorgeous and stole you. I took you to the middle of the dance floor, everyone was watching. The stupid spotlight was on us and "Save The Last Dance For Me" was playing." Right on cue, the song starts to flow out from the speakers. "I pulled some fancy moves." Niall takes Harry's hand and they start dancing. "I may be twirled you around a couple hundred times." He leads Harry through a series of spins to demonstrate. "Dipped you real close to the ground once." Niall puts a hand on Harry's lower back and dips him. "Then I lifted you up and spun us around too." He does just that.

"Then we went to my car, we were exhilarated. Might have drunk too much of the spiked punch. I kissed you goodnight and you went to find your mum. I got in the car and was watching you in the mirror. Then that arse came up behind you. I rushed out, calling out your name, but I was too late. I couldn't save you."

Harry hugs him. "It's not your fault. That prat is going to be tried in a couple days, yeah? We'll show him justice."

Niall smiles and kisses him. "Yeah. We will."

 

-

 

"This is bullshit!" Louis exclaims. "How come he gets away with attempted murder with community service and suspension?"

"His parents bribed the judge, probably," Nick reasons, standing too close to Louis. Niall frowns. Since when did those two stand this close? Something's not quite right here. "And the judge is a known homophobe. So yeah."

"Is there compensation? Like, are they at least going to charge that bastard with the hospital fees?" Liam asks.

"Yeah, at least that much is covered."

"We need to protest this," Josh comments. "Put on our rainbow shirts and march down to the Parliament."

"Yeah no," Niall states. "That will only create publicity that we don't need. We need to lay low and hope that the damage to Harry's brain won't be permanent."

 

-

 

"I know why you got bashed," Robin says.

Harry gulps. "And why would that be?"

"You're a fucking faggot, that's why."

 _Uh-oh._ Okay, so maybe confiding in his mum was not the brightest idea. "Who told you that?"

"Your mum. So you think that it's okay to keep a secret from me for god knows how long?"

"It's my life, Robin. And I'm of age of consent!"

"Yes, so it's okay for some pedophile to stick it in your arse. As far as I'm concerned, the anus is for shitting."

"Then you're gonna have to learn to deal with it."

Robin's face reddens. "No step-son of mine is going to be a creampuff. Either you end things with this blonde chap or you are no longer living underneath this roof."

"Fine! I'll go live where people won't judge me for whom I date!" Harry yells, storming up the stairs.

"Harry!" Anne calls out, tears in her eyes. "I am so sorry. He figured out that you weren't spending the weekends at Cara's and he started asking around. And now he knows. I swear I told him nothing."

Harry kisses her cheek. "I know, Mum. Thank you. Cara won't mind me sleeping on her sofa, neither will her family."

"Here," Anne says, giving Harry an envelope. "It's five hundred, enough to cover rent for a month. I'll try to deposit more into your account."

"Mum," Harry complains. "I can't take your money? Rob will throw a fit if he finds out."

"He won't. Now, go. I love you baby."

"Love you too."

 

-

"D'ya know what feckin' time--Harry?" Niall sounds equal parts pissed and surprised. "Whatcha doin' here, at three in the mornin'? You've school in like four hours."

"My step-dad kicked me out for being gay," Harry sniffles.

Niall's expression softens. "It's alright. You can stay here for as long as you need to. Fathers suck, be glad you don't hafta live with one anymore."

Harry nods numbly and lets Niall lead him to the bed. Niall throws the duffle bag across the space and picks Harry up. With a tender smile, he lowers Harry to the centre of the bed and kisses him.

"Now, do ya want me to take your mind off it or . . .?"

There's only one answer and the answer is Niall. Always will be.

This time, when they fuck, it's slow and unhurried, as opposed to the furious pace Niall usually sets. There's no filth whispered into Harry's ear, just gentle encouragements and languid movements of Niall's hips against Harry's. Harry's legs are wrapped around Niall's waist as he fucks into him, his eyes screwed shut from pleasure. For a moment, Harry can almost believe that they are making love.

 

-

And the morning, of course, does not get off to a great start.

It starts with the loud knocks on his door. And since it's a bomb-proof steel door, it's fucking loud and resound throughout the loft.

"Fucking pricks," Niall mutters, rolling out of his bed, literally.

Without bothering to pull some clothes, Niall goes to answer the door. 

"Jesus, Nialler, " Liam exclaims, Zayn in tow. Harry has come to attach his lips to Niall's neck. Niall turns to kiss him quite lurid. "Haven't you had enough?"

Niall holds up a finger. "You can _never_ have enough, dear Leemo. Besides, you are the ones intruding so."

Zayn scrunches up his nose. Niall laughs while he ushers Harry back to his bed. 

"To what do I owe this displeasure? In case ya haven't noticed, it's Saturday and I tend to sleep 'til noon on weekends."

"Oh you know, the usual. Stories of our damnation and sod-all fuckeries." Zayn shrugs.

"And also because someone was killed on the street a few blocks away from Babylon," Liam inputs.

Niall freezes. "And?"

"He was gay. Seen him a couple times at Babylon," Liam offers. "And his body was found in a dumpster."

"What an unpleasant way to die. And this concerns me how?" Niall cocks an eyebrow.

"If this killer is going after gays, then you are sort of an easy target. You go home with different blokes to shag every night and it'll be easy to track you down." Zayn explains.

"I'm a grown-arse man with plenty of money. I can handle meself."

"Yeah, I'll miss ya, bud," Zayn jokes.

Niall goes in for a kidney jab which the English lad dodges. "Yeah yeah. I'll see ya at our usual spot, yeah?"

 

-

 

It's dead. For being a Saturday night, the dance floor of Babylon is half-empty and that means that there are way less possible bums for Niall to shag. Harry looks oddly pleased about this, though. ( _Probably because it means I'll shag him instead,_ Niall thinks bitterly.)

"What's up with the thin crowd?" he asks when Nick shows up. His hair is suspiciously flat and the button-fly of his trousers are only halfway done up.

"New club opened on the other side of the city. Not a sex club per se but they do have half-pound pints for tonight. Can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want that."

Well then." Niall huffs out. 

Just then, Harry appears. His eyes are a bit moist and no doubt, he was on the mobile with his mum. There's a curious little twinge in Niall's heart and he ignores it.

"Hey," Louis says, hugging him. "How're things?"

"Okay, I suppose," Harry shrugs. "Mum says hi to you lot."

"Here, looks like you could use a round of shots," Nick says, squeezing in between Louis and the teen. Niall's brows shoot up. He's is fairly sure that he just saw Nick hip-check Louis and Louis didn't claw his face off.

 

An hour later, and all of them are off their faces,--except for Josh, that is. Niall thinks that Harry is magic because his lips refuse to leave Harry's for some weird reason. Giggling and stumbling, they make their way to the backroom.

"Mmm, you're so pretty," Niall muses, kissing down the length of Harry's jawline. "Wanna be a good girl for daddy?"

"Yeah," Harry moans, Niall's hand jsut having squeezed his balls lightly. "Make daddy feel good."

Harry drops to his with practiced grace, for once not knocking his knees into anything. He unzips Niall's leather trousers and sucks him into his mouth greedily. The backroom is nearly empty and fuck, hearing Harry's moans never fails to bring him to the edge. He thrusts into Harry's mouth and Harry, being the champ that he is, swallows him down, not even gagging a bit.

"Fuck, Haz," Niall rasps. "Gon' come in your mouth. Maybe paint your face with it, yeah?"

Harry hums and Niall takes that as a yes. He pulls out and empties himself all over Harry's flushed face. There's string of white that lands on Harry's eyelashes, and fuck, that's too sensual not to be illegal.

"Fuck me," Harry rasps as they kiss.

"Gladly."

 

-

 

Niall can't believe it. He's managed to keep this non-relationship with Harry for nearly a year now.

What the fuck's happened to his no-fucking-twice rule?

If anything, he's pretty sure that he's grown sickeningly fond of Harry by now.

And, oh, it's Harry's birthday tomorrow.

Yay.

 

Harry's dad still hates him for being gay and they still live together. Harry has been accepted into the University of the Arts London and has already had an exhibition of his own. Niall is really proud of him, he really is. Despite what's happened, he's learned to use some computer graphic program to draw again.

He himself has moved from the arsehole he's been working for and started his own company. It's been going great, with his reputation helping him jumpstart his company and with a great clientele, money keeps flowing into his bank account.

"You are a prick," Josh says.

Across the table, he sees all his mates nod their assent. Nick and Louis are sitting across from each other with odd expressions on their faces. Liam and Zayn are wrapped up in each other as usual, being disgustingly sweet and adorable.

"Yeah, you only turn seventeen once in lifetime, mate," Nick says, shooting him a dirty look.

"Whatever. I never had a birthday party meself."

"Doesn't mean that he won't want it, you prat. For once, can't you show him that you care about him?"

"Nah," Niall says. "That involves feelings and I don't do feelings, as you are very well aware."

"Prick," Josh repeats. "Won't be serving you fresh snuff anymore."

"Yeah yeah, you and your dogs too."

 

-

 

Thing is, Niall honestly doesn't understand why people have to make such big deals out of birthdays. It's a sad reminder that they are one more year close to dying and yet everyone wants to celebrate. Niall prefers to not be reminded that he's getting old, fuck you very much.

"Hey," Harry says, walking into their--since when did it become theirs? "Why so glum, chum?"

"Me friends think I'm a prick, the usual," Niall shrugs, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. "They think that I should do something 'cause you're seventeen as of today."

"Mum's already taken me out for a dinner," Harry says. "And I know that you'd rather die than do something romantic for me again."

"Let's not get that drastic. Been through a school dance for ya, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you have. That was a good night, I suppose."

Niall puts down the shot glass and goes to kiss Harry's brow. "Can we not talk about that? I'd much rather fuck you against the wall."

"Okay, then."

 

Ten minutes later, Harry is stark naked and his chest is pressed to a pillar near the kitchen area. Niall still has most of his clothes on, albeit dishevelled and unbuttoned for the most part. "Babe, you feel so good."

"Yeah?" Harry retorts, hips rocking back to get more of Niall's fingers. "Open me up and fuck me hard then."

Niall smirks, and Harry can feel it on his neck. "In a bit."

He pulls his fingers out and Harry whines at the loss. That is, until Niall blows a huff of warm air across his hole.

"Fuck," Harry moans.

"That's the general idea."

Soon enough, Harry's hips are bucking to impale himself further onto Niall's talented little tongue. Niall is absolutely loving this, drinking in the sounds that Harry makes in ecstasy. He adds a finger, jabbing particularly hard into Harry's prostate. The teen comes with a jumble of half-formed words and keening noises, going all pliant in Niall's arms.

"Hmm, such a horny little teenager," Niall teases, finger still deep inside of Harry's arse.

"You're too good at that, you know that?"

"And you love it."

Harry sticks his tongue out, which Niall laughs at.

 

-

 

"Why am I still here?" Harry asks, sprawled out across Niall's bed.

Niall has been wondering the same thing for the past three years. They fuck, they cook for each other, and they live together. Never have they gone on actual dates in all these years.

"I dunno. Why do you keep staying?"

Harry shrugs. "Think there's an addictive quality to your dick. Irish leprechaun magic, that is."

Niall slaps him on the bum. "Fucker."

"But seriously. We never dated yet I'm still here, every night. Even after you've fucked other blokes."

"Well that's because no matter who I fuck, I'll always be coming home to you. You _are_ a part of me life now, as inconvenient as it is."

Harry stretches up to kiss him. "Inconsiderate twat. You'll never say it, will you? Not even in another ten years of this, whatever this is."

"We'll see."

 

-

 

"Maybe I'm getting too old for him," Harry pouts.

Louis huffs. "Honey, if you're too old, the rest of us should be in assisted care."

Nick laughs. "Always the subtle one."

The flamboyant lad shoots him a death glare. "Careful or I might chop off your dick."

"I'd like to see you try."

 

Harry rolls his eyes. It's King of Babylon night and the club is swarming with fit men galore. The contestants have been roaming the dance floor, scantily clad and with body oils rubbed onto their admirable pecs and abs.

As if on cue, Niall appears with some tall brunet. He is shirtless and wearing one of the tightest pairs of jeans Harry's has ever seen.

"Like what you see, dear?" a syrupy voice queries.

Harry turns around. The man is a gorgeous one, with some drag queen-esque makeup on his face and with a scandalous outfit to match. He is the residing King, if the crown wasn't an obvious indication.

"More like not like. It's just that I'm sick of being taken for granted."

The king dude tuts in sympathy. "Maybe you should show him what you're made of. Show _everyone_ , that's even better."

 

Some minutes later, Harry finds himself dressed in a skimpy cowboy costume and behind a curtain on the stage.

"Our next contestant loves the _Titanic_ , cooking, and older men who like to take him for granted. Here's Harry!"

Harry takes a deep breath just as the curtains lift and a spotlight is upon him. He swings his hips in the most sensual way that he can muster as he makes his way to the stripper pole.

Slowly, he starts to undo the plaid shirt to the beat of "You Can Leave Your Hat On". The crowd cheers when the shirt comes off and he shucks it somewhere in the midst of all men. He looks down with a coy expression, trying to come off as arrogant, like the people cheering him on are below him. He checks to see Niall's reaction to this dismay, he seems to be unfazed.

Time to kick it up a notch.

He lets his hands trail down his torso, touching himself and pulling faces that he makes when he is having sex. That seems to do the trick, as the loudness doubles. The belt buckle feels ridiculously large in his hands as he undoes it and throws the belt away. The trousers are those arse-less chaps that he's seen in bad pornos and stuff. He hooks a leg around the pole and does a spin, getting the feel for it. He learns that he needs to tighten his grip because, fuck, he does not want to get a concussion dancing on a pole.

Niall keeps looking unimpressed so Harry turns up the heat. He doffs the trousers and underneath, he is wearing only a tight pair of Calvin Klein briefs, white of course. He shakes his bum a bit, thinking it's absurd because he is sticking his arse out like a duck. The reaction he gets out of the audience is half-worth it though. Back on the pole, he spins around pole, making sure that his backside is on full display and that his head is thrown back despite the centripetal forces working against him. For a couple revolutions, he lets himself drop close to the stage floor, head inches from the ground and his dick all but rubbing on the cold metal of the pole.

When he gets up and twirls away from the pole, he catches a glimpse of Niall. The man he has been working on seems to have zero interest on the blond now. Au contraire, his hungry gaze is fixated on Harry.

As the song comes to its end, Harry kneels to the ground and arches his back, sweat glistening off his body in the pulsing light. He can hardly hear the last few chords, the sound drowned out by the deafening screams and chants of his name,

It takes few minutes for the votes to be tallied up but it's no surprise when his name gets called out. He smiles as the crown is placed on his head.

Afterwards, he walks through the crowd with the crown on and a cape around his shoulders.

"Oh, look," Zayn drawls, eyes sparkling. "It's his Highness come to grace us with his presence."

"Sod off," Harry says with no heat behind his words. "Think it'll work?"

Louis claps him on the shoulder. "If that didn't prove to Ni that you are the most desirable twink in all of England, honey, I don't know what will."

"Oh it did," Niall comments. "Scrawny little prat." He taps the undersideof Harry's chin.

"Well that's good. That means that I didn't just strip for nothing."

"You are always welcome to strip for me, you know," Niall winks.

Harry is about to retort but Niall silences him with a kiss.

"Backroom. _Now._ "

-

 

Harry is bored. Yeah, it's Friday out at Babylon with the usual gang but Niall is away on a business trip to Melbourne. He has smoked through half the bag of whatever powdered drug he's been offered--E? LSD? he's no clue--and even that's not good enough to get him in the right mood.

"But that blondie is so fit," Nick offers, pointing at the throng of dancing men.

Harry lifts a shoulder. The blondie is fit, alright. But he's too reminiscent of Niall. Lithe body, sensuous movements and cold eyes that condescend you without uttering a spoken word. "I've seen better."

Louis slides into the seat by Nick; it's become alarmingly clear that Nick and Louis are getting along now, as scary as that sounds. "Haz, stop moping. Nialler is flying back tonight, sometime around midnight I hear. Knowing him, he'll still come to fuck around here even with a massive jet lag."

"Yeah, of course. Maybe he's found some Aussie surfer he likes better, who knows. You can't predict what he's gonna do. He's fucking Niall Horan."

Liam and Zayn come back with a tray of shots. "This oughta cheer you up, babe. Drink up and please don't hog whatever stuff you got over there. Wanna feel what it's like to bareback whilst high," Zayn says, winking at Liam. And Liam, bless his somehow-still-innocent soul, sputter and blushses.

Five shots and another half the bag of drugs later, Harry is way past shit-faced. He can't tell the difference between the sounds of his heartbeat and the thrum of the bass reverberating though his bones.

And that's when it happens.

There's a booming sound and before he knows it, he is knocked to the ground face first. There's smoke and debris of whatever falling down upon him. He can't breathe properly, what with the ashes raining down and suffocating him.

For a brief second if wonders if death has finally found him. 

Then he blacks out.

 

-

 

"Fuck, don't you do this to me again," someone sobs out. There's fists pounding his chest lightly, too soft to do real damage.

"Sir, please step away," someone else order, female. 'We need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible."

"I need to come with him. I'm listed as next of kin."

"Alright then, climb on in."

He loses consciousness just as something warm touches his forehead.

 

-

 

The waiting time is the worst, Niall decides. Harry has been in surgery for over six hours and in the meantime, Niall hasn't budged one bit in the uncomfortable seat. Louis has come by to bring him a tea and some biscuits but he has hardly touched them. He can't eat whilst he knows nothing of Harry. God, he was supposed to keep Harry safe, safe from everyone including Niall himself.

A doctor comes out, shrugging out of his surgical scrubs. 

"How's he? He's he alright?"

The doctor offers him a smile. "Yes. There were complications removing all the shrapnel from his veins, and there was large piece of splinter stuck in the femoral artery. We had to be extremely careful around that. Also, he seems to have sustained a head injury, presumable from hitting his head on the ground as the explosion unbalanced him."

Niall's heart does a funny little lurch. "Will it worsen his condition? He's a fuckin' artist, he needs his hands fully functional."

The other man's face falls. "I'm afraid that his motor skills are in jeopardy. We will have to wait until he wakes up."

 

-

 

"Harry, love, please open your eyes for me," Niall begs.

It's been a week since the explosion at Babylon and Harry still hasn't woken. The nurse has explained to him that Harry's body is operating at a minimal capacity to help compensate for the damage done. But Niall is done waiting. 

He wants his Harry back. That's all.

"I love you, goddammit. I am fucking in love with you Harry. And you were supposed to be awake and healthy when you hear me say it the first time. Fucking twat just wake up already."

Tears are welling up in his eyes and Niall doesn't bother wiping them away. They continue to flow and fall splatter onto Harry's cheeks. 

If his vision wasn't blurred by the tears, he would have seen Harry's hand clench the slightest bit.

 

-

 

That night, Niall stays the night in Harry's room despite his friends' protests. Granted, it's been a couple days since he last showered properly. (The bathrooms in the hospital are not the best.) He can't bother being away from Harry for longer than ten minutes. What if Harry wakes up and Niall isn't there? He _needs_ to be the first one that Harry sees.

He has been resting his head on Harry's arm when he feels the tiniest movement. When he looks up, he sees Harry's eyes fluttering open, his arm stretching out.

"Where'm I?" he asks, voice shot from the pain medications.

"Colchester Regional Hospital. Some bastard set off a bomb at Babylon. You were too close to the explosion and got knocked out."

"Explains why I feel like I got run over by a truck," he mumbles.

Niall helps him as he tries to sit up. Harry mutters thanks and wiggles about, trying to get comfortable. Then his body freezes up.

"Did you--did you say anything whilst I was unconscious?" he asks, unsure if he'd been dreaming or not.

Niall blushes, and that's a definite first. "Yes."

"What'd you say?"

"That I love you."

Harry feels his eyes sting from the tears. "Finally, huh?"

The blond laughs. "Yeah. About time, I should say."

"M'kay. Wanna sleep, too tired."

"Okay, love. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

 

-

 

Harry is back in Niall's bed, making purring sounds as Niall strokes his hair.

"Did you hear what I said last night?" Niall asks.

"Yes."

"And?"

"I love you too."

"We should get married."

Harry gulps. "You don't mean it."

"Of course I do. All these years, I been a stupid cunt who couldn't admit his feelings. Now, I want to let you know that I love you."

"You're scared because what happened to me. It'll pass."

Niall frowns.

He'll find a way to make Harry believe him and prove him wrong.

He always does.

 

-

 

"Was the blindfold really necessary?" Harry sneers.

Niall kisses him. "Want it to be a surprise for you, babe."

Harry huffs indignantly and lets Niall guide him to the car. 

About an hour later, the car stops. Niall leads him outside and he can distantly feel them going up a few stairs.

"Okay, take it off."

He is taken aback because what he sees is a beautiful two-storey house with a spacious yard and lovely colours.

"What is this?" Harry asks, bewildered.

"Our house, that is, if you want it to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I meant it when I said that I love you. You'll always be that one person I'll think of before I sleep and the first person to occupy my thoughts when I wake."

Niall takes him inside the house. They light the fireplace--a real one--and in minutes the entire first floor feels warm. There are six bedrooms in total, couple with three bathrooms and a very large living room. The entire house is beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale.

"Yes," he says, as they dance their way to in front of the fireplace.

Niall looks at him tenderly before he hooks his foot behind Harry's kneecap and send them both tumbling to the ground, laughing.

 

In a matter of minutes, they lose all their clothes, some of them forming a makeshift blanket on top of the hardwood floor. It's the first time they're making love, not just fucking. There's a lot of moments there, moments in which Niall lets it be known that he is in love with the younger lad.

When they come, it's a rush of endorphin and the love and passions that have harboured for one another. It's long and mind-blowing and a thousand more things that Harry had never expected to experience.

"I'm glad you said yes," Niall whispers as he takes Harry up to the master bedroom, to make more love, no doubt.

"I'm glad you finally asked."

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, Wattpad made this private meaning you have to follow me AND verify that you're over 18 because it's that filthy, apparently.


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